


automatic joy, that is why i want a coin-operated boy

by forcynics



Series: vampire diaries ficathon fills [3]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-09
Updated: 2011-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6138796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcynics/pseuds/forcynics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katherine has some fun with Jeremy in the tomb - it's been days since she's fed, and he does have that nifty little ring to bring him back again and again and again. (2x10)</p>
            </blockquote>





	automatic joy, that is why i want a coin-operated boy

 

 

 

Jeremy Gilbert is so stupidly brave, she surmises. So very _young_. Young enough not to realize that bravery _is_ stupidity, after all.

Not that she minds when his stupidity lands him in her tomb – masochistic, isn’t it, to now call it _her_ tomb? – and he’s a ripe fruit for her plucking. He thinks he’s actually gotten the best of her and she almost laughs – there’s something endearing about how ridiculously naive he is that just makes her want to sink her teeth into him... and not just to feed, although it’s been a few days since she’s had any blood and that’s definitely her primary concern – but then there’s no time for laughing as she’s back on her feet and launching herself at him ever so gracefully, fangs tearing rather than sinking into his neck. There’s nothing graceful about _this_ part: she’s an animal, controlled by her most primary, savage instincts, and it’s very, very messy.

He slumps and she pushes him to the ground lazily, momentarily satiated. She licks her lips, wipes her chin off and licks that too.

He tastes delicious. She already wants more and it’s so convenient that the boy who was stupid enough to plunge in here after the moonstone is the boy who can’t be killed. He’ll keep waking up and she can drink and drink and drink his blood away to her heart’s content. She slides down to sit beside him, lips twisted into the first grin she’s grinned in days as she runs her fingers idly over his lips, down his chin to the torn, bloody skin at his neck. _So_ messy.

“Tsk, tsk.” She giggles.

Then his eyes open, startled, panicked, and her own light up, wicked and bright.

“ _Jeremy_ ,” she coos, before the veins around her eyes darken and with a sudden hiss she’s grabbing him by the t-shirt and yanking him up to her. This time, her teeth explore the veins in the other side of his neck. For some reason, they taste even better.

But quickly enough he’s out like a light, and she drops him – a thud and an impatient sigh. Tongue sliding out to lick the blood off her lips; she wasn’t quite so messy this time.

When Jeremy Gilbert comes back to life for the second time, she’s leaned up against the wall, legs crossed daintily in front of her, palms pressing into the dirt. He pushes himself up, glancing around, and she wonders if he’ll continued to be so startled every time he comes back; it’s already getting annoying.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, doesn’t hurry to feed on him this time. Those other desires are taking precedence, and she doesn’t mind one bit.

He looks at her, looks at the entrance of the tomb.

Looks back at her.

Does he realize how obvious his thoughts are? It’s disappointing, really, if not surprising. He’s about to launch himself up but she’s faster – of _course_ she’s faster, silly Gilbert – blurring in front of him, hand shoving his chest back down, on top of him now, straddling him, the return of the wicked grin.

“Oh, _Jeremy_ ,” she sighs, fingers tip-toeing up his shirt, brushing hair out of his eyes. “Leaving already?” She leans over him, mouth to his ear. “I had so much _fun_ planned for us.”

And then it’s her mouth on his, her tongue in his throat, twisting with his whether he likes it or not. He’s sputtering – or trying to – and pulling his head back, a hoarse cry escaping him. She eases up, mouth off his, lips pulled into a pout she’ll never be too old for.

“What’s wrong, Jeremy?” Fingers brush his cheek, hand slides under his shirt. He twitches, flinches.

Her face is inches away from his again. Blows her words in his face with a whisper and a smirk, “ _Don’t you think I’m pretty?”_ Pout disappears as she bites down on his lip, moaning softly into his mouth.

He’s so tense underneath her, and she could only imagine how disturbing such a scenario must be for him – she looks exactly like his _sister_ – but she doesn’t, because really, she doesn’t care.

“I _know_ you want me, Jeremy” – it’s a purr, almost. Harsh breaths and then her tongue’s plunging into his mouth again, and then an inhale – “Want _this.”_

She rips his shirt down the middle; everything breaks so easily.

Her hand trails down his chest, plays with the button of his jeans. Her tongue’s still in his mouth.

She lets her fingers dance around the top of his boxers, then they’re skimming underneath and she grips him suddenly, and his fists are clenched at his sides but then no, no, his hands are in her hair, diving into the limp, brown waves. He’s holding onto her as if he has any say in this, tongue fighting hers for control he’s never going to win.

So stupidly brave. She loves it.

His hands run down her back, find the zipper to her dress, but she beats him to it, her free hand easily ripping the black fabric to shreds that fall away. Her other hand is at work eliciting strangled gasps from the poor boy beneath her.

Mouth sliding off his, she trails her deadly kisses down his jaw line, down his neck. The wounds are already open, though hardly flowing at this point – all she has to do is suck, gulp, greedily drink. He twitches underneath her but she’s still working her wonderful fingers on him even as she drains the blood out of him – his head just arches back against the ground, gasp after gasp and she doesn’t really care which action of hers is the cause.

She doesn’t drink too much – doesn’t want this all to have to pause... and wait – and then she’s pressing her bloodied lips to his. He’s pressing back, kissing her back, and she knew he reminded her of someone else. She’s still in her bra, of the lacy, black variety she prefers, and she lets him dispose of it, ecstatic that he’s doing this all by himself now. 

Oh, Jeremy.

Then it’s his mouth sliding down her neck – she shivers in the most pleasant way – and his mouth on her breast and a loud, startled gasp that definitely does not belong to either one of them.

She stiffens, freezes, turns her head.

The little witch-girl – or at least, the word that Katherine conjures up to mind _rhymes_ with witch – and of course, it _would_ be Stefan that’s standing beside her.

Another hiss – she does so hate being interrupted – and then it’s sex forgotten and bloodlust the priority as she whips her head back around to bend down and bite deep into his shoulder. He cries out, shaking underneath her, and there’s quite possibly more than one reason for that, but it only takes a few seconds before he’s out cold again. She drinks and drinks and drinks and sure enough, _Saint Stefan_ is suddenly blurring into the tomb, grabbing her and throwing her off Jeremy. She gets her footing easily enough, turns to glare at him even though she’s half-naked. The witch actually has her eyes averted. Stefan’s already shoved Jeremy out.

Her lips press together, smirk present again as she watches Jeremy fumble to zip up his pants, his shirt hanging uselessly off him. The witch isn’t looking at him either.

Her smirk only deepens.

“ _Bye_ , Jeremy,” she coos, wiggling her fingers naughtily in a little wave.

He looks at her – she sees how dark _his_ eyes are, dilated even – and looks away, cheeks flushed, a dazed look on his face. She reminds herself that he just came back to life again.

They leave, the stupid one – _her_ stupid one; she’s not just possessive about tombs – and the witch.

Stefan’s staring at her.

She sighs. Later, he’ll be good for some fun too, but right now she’s still annoyed with him and annoyed is not something she enjoys.

“Really, Stefan,” she calls out, a snap in her voice, not condescending to actually look at him as she stalks to the other end of the tomb. "It’s _rude_ to just take someone’s toy away.”

 

 

 


End file.
